October 28th, 1666

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It's been ten months since I have written a letter to you my darling. Every night the appearance of that figure has appeared, hovering over me, reaching out, calling for me. What's different about this last time is how vaguely familiar the figure was. The size of a child, nearly your age, perhaps exactly your age. Hair mangled messily into two ponytails, hands frail and delicate, voice soft and shaky as it calls out. Is this a sign from the gods? Was this figure you the entire time, reaching out? If so, how come you’ve been denying me? Do you fear my touch? Have you been forbidden to reach out for me? What about your mother? Is this a sign? Am I crazy? Have the gods answered my prayers or is this a trick from sinners below? Please Iphegenia, answer me.

An entry A Day, Just to See You Once MoreWhere stories live. Discover now